


First Dawning

by SignificanttOtter



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, The Dawning (Destiny), The Last City (Destiny), destiny is a story about people sharing feelings around campfires, late dark age and early city age, slowly filling the tags with various background characters, the pilgrim guard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28334880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignificanttOtter/pseuds/SignificanttOtter
Summary: When Saint-14 finally gets an opportunity to spend a proper Last City Dawning with The Speaker, he is not sure how best to celebrate it. He turns to his friends for advice, and to his past for guidance.
Relationships: Saint-14 & Speaker (Destiny)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	First Dawning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JenCforCarolina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenCforCarolina/gifts).



On the morning of The Dawning, Saint-14 awoke in a warm, feather-soft bed. He stretched out, and said good morning to Geppetto, who lay among the folds of the heavy quilted blanket. She was barely awake herself, but flitted to consciousness at his voice. He let himself enjoy the moment, the immense gratitude that he was waking up here and not in a scratchy sleeping bag in a wind-battered tent somewhere far beyond the City walls. Yet he resisted the urge to avoid the chill of the winter air seeping through the thin window panes and to stay snuggled in the warm blankets all morning.

After all, he had an important task to attend to.

His first Dawning — though it was not called such in the wilds — had been spent as a newly-raised lightbearer, traveling with the Speaker out of Old Russia on refugee trails. Though modest winter festivities, pieced together from pre-Golden Age holidays, had been celebrated in the little villages and camps that lined the routes, he and the Speaker had observed them from a distance. They had never spent enough time in one place to get a feel for the local customs.

Instead, they invented their own. In the light of the campfire, the Speaker had enthralled Saint with stories, some invented, some recited from memory. He taught him about the world, all that he had missed before Geppetto raised him. They played games together with tattered cards and stones and marbles. Saint felt sorry that he had little knowledge to share in return, but the Speaker had encouraged him to instead speak from his imagination: to talk about his hopes, and dreams, and how he felt about his light. It was during this time he felt the first stirrings of what he would one day become.

Traveling with a group of risen called the Pilgrim Guard, they arrived at the Last City a half a year later. While the Speaker had taught Saint _about_ the Light, his fellow risen had taught him to _use_ it. At their side, he learned how to pour his light into a wall of violet flame, form it into a magnificent shield, and channel it through his fists into an unstoppable punch. He had learned to be a titan, though such distinctions hadn't been made at the time.

He and the Speaker eventually settled into a modest, comfortable life in the City, but when the Guard invited him to join, he accepted. They had given so much that felt right to give back — to them, to the risen making their way home to the Traveler, and to the lightless, who needed help the most. Saint had felt a twinge of remorse for leaving the Speaker behind, but he had taken on his own set of duties within the City. For better or worse, they were no longer the only people in each others' lives.

And so his second Dawning had been spent ushering travelers through snow-swept mountain passes so remote that he couldn't even send a transmission to his father.

But now that they could finally spend a proper Dawning together, he insisted on doing something special. On celebrating the City way, with gifts and revelry. Saint crept out of his little shack, the frosty morning air cold but not uncomfortable against his faceplates, intent on finding a way to make this the best Dawning yet.

"Where to, Saint?" Geppetto asked, bobbing along at his shoulder as he trudged down the street, which hadn't yet been cleaned of previous evening's snowfall.

"To see our friends," Saint replied. "They are more familiar with the customs of the City. I wish to hear their opinions"

When Saint arrived at the crumbling block of stone buildings that the Pilgrim Guard had converted into their quarters, he found a dozen figures in the courtyard, chatting, eating breakfast and otherwise enjoying the reprieve from their usual duties. He scanned the yard, and quickly found who he was looking for. Nkechi-32 and Vell Tarlowe were tending to breakfast over an open fire and having a spirited debate about the proper way to brew tea.

Saint couldn't help but grin to himself as he thought back to their first meeting. They had been bickering then, too, over the right way to prepare some game that they had caught. Recognizing them as risen — and not a threat, judging by the small entourage of refugees gathered with them — the Speaker had gone to introduce himself. Saint had followed, at once eager and anxious. He had never met another risen or exo before.

They had been perfectly _normal_. Perfectly welcoming. The Speaker and Saint had set up camp with them that night, and when the time came to travel west toward the City, they moved with Guard's caravan. On their journey, Saint had come to discover that Vell was a warm and fatherly sort of man, though more youthful-acting than his weathered face let on. Nkechi-32 was not much older than Saint, and they had grown especially close to each other as the only exos in their group. Away from their organic counterparts, they had compared notes on strange dreams. The odd feeling of memories just out of reach. The curiosity of mechanical bodies, and speculating where they must have come from.

By the time they had reached the half-built City walls, he had come to view Vell and Nkechi as his family, too.

"Good morning, my friends." His face arranged into a soft smile as he stepped between the two, clapping a large hand on each of their armored shoulders. Geppetto buzzed off to gossip with Agu and Razor, who were having a lively conversation away from their lightbearers.

"Ah! Saint! Didn't expect to see you this morning!" Nkechi's faceplates mirrored Saint's in a smile. "Come to join us for breakfast?"

"No thank you — only tea for me," he responded, taking a seat on one of the logs surrounding the fire pit.

Vell poured Saint a mug, and handed it to him. "Something got you down?"

Saint took comfort in the warmth of the heavy ceramic against his silicone fingertips. "Perhaps. I am trying to decide what to do for the Dawning. It is the first time I will celebrate it with father, and I want it to be special. But . . . I am not sure what to do."

"What _do_ you get a man who has a personal line to the Traveler?" Nkechi mused while buttering a piece of toast. It was a rhetorical, yet _real_ , question. The Speaker's wants — peace, safety, community — were not things that could be wrapped in ribbon and exchanged over Dawning dinner. At best, he would be unimpressed by a feast... at worst, irritated at the excess of it.

"Line to the Traveler or not, he's just a person like you or me," Vell offered. "People appreciate sincerity more than anything else. I'm sure he'll like whatever you give him."

Saint was heartened by Vell's optimism, but not satisfied. He didn't want his father to just _like_ his gift, he wanted him to _love_ it. Be something special and cherished.

He was silent for a few moments. "I am going to the market and see what I can find. Perhaps you would join me?"

"Oh, that sounds fun!" Nkechi's optics brightened to dazzling white, "Of course!"

"Sure, why not," Vell smiled, finishing off his strong, bitter tea.

The market district was, as with the rest of the Last City, a mix of newly-built shacks and repurposed ruins. It was always full of people, but Saint had never felt it was particularly _lively_ until today. Decorations were strung between stalls and hung up in storefronts. The hawkers were a little more raucous, the food stands a bit more full. People congregated around barrel-fires, laughing and talking loudly over the noise of the crowd. Traders negotiated their deals, while vendors laid their goods out on blankets.

They investigated promising leads. A stall filled with antique books; a delicately hand-crafted chess set; some Awoken tchotchkes undoubtedly smuggled out of the Reef. But they were either not quite right for the Speaker's tastes, or out of Saint's budget. Several hours of browsing passed before they exhausted their options and returned back to the quarters, defeated.

"I'm sorry we couldn't find anything," Vell said, "But, I'm sure he'll understand."

Saint knew Vell was right, yet it hardly made him feel better. He thought about their early days together. There had been little glimmer, few possessions, and no gifts. Only the company of one another. Yet, he had been truly happy to rest beside the warmth of the fire, listening to and laughing with his father — even if he had then lacked stories of his own to tell in return.

It occurred to Saint that he had been looking at things the wrong way.

That evening, Saint-14 suggested to his father that they go out for a stroll to admire the Dawning lights and festivities. The Speaker agreed, so they headed out, bundled up against the chilly winter night. They were quiet, mostly, walking toward downtown with the usual din of the City dampened beneath a heavy coat of powder snow. The glow of strung lights, lanterns, and campfires contrasted with dark, clear sky, and the faint reflective shine of the Traveler overhead. 

They reached the Pilgrim Guard quarters. Saint led him forward toward the courtyard, where Vell, Nkechi and several others lingered around a bonfire, sharing hot cider and cookies. They smiled and waved, beckoning them to join.

"I was not sure what to do for the Dawning," Saint explained as they approached, "So, I decided we should celebrate it the way we know best."

"Thank you, Saint," he said, pulling the titan in for a hug. Though he could not see the Speaker's expression, Saint was sure he was smiling from the way he spoke. "I could not ask for a better gift."

Saint smiled, and returned the hug. 

"Now, how about I tell you some of my stories?"

**Author's Note:**

> Gift fic for JenCforCarolina! I hope you like it!
> 
> I was digging Jen's suggestion of a fic centering on a legendary titan. After rolling a bunch of ideas around in my head, I chose Saint-14. (With special guest appearances by Vell Tarlowe and Nkechi-32.)
> 
> I tried to explore some areas of the lore I find interesting, but haven't investigated much for lack of canon material or fan speculation. Among these, Saint's and The Speaker's relationship, Saint's early life as a lightbearer, The Pilgrim Guard, and Vell's pre-Crota Fireteam days. And giving Nkechi a bit more background 'cause she deserves it.


End file.
